When in Paris
by Jessy-Fran
Summary: By all means get lost, curse the ticket machines and hold the map upside-down but just try to avoid getting caught by a certain tall, blonde Frenchmen. That is, if you're Arthur Kirkland anyway. Slight FranceXUK. Warning: A bad French accent.


**Disclaimer:** If I own Axis Powers Hetalia I would essentially own the world and sadly I lack the political skills to do so. [Read as: I Do Not Own APH.]

**A/N:** I was in Paris a few months ago and I fell in love with the metro system! It is _so_ much better then the metro here in rainy old Manchester. I did get a little lost, but I found my way around in the end! Unfortunately, it was without the help of a certain blonde, wine-loving, personification of a country.

Oh and I am very sorry but my computer seems to dislike putting accents and the like on letters at the moment, so I am very sorry that they are missing. I will go through the French properly at a later date when I am feeling particularly 'language-y'. I also love writing in that God-awful really fake French accent, so sorry if that annoys/offends any of you.

[Cough]_FranceXEnglandisfabulous_[/Cough]

* * *

That was it.

Let it never be said that Arthur Kirkland didn't at least_ try_ the French Metro system. It simply wasn't his fault that the damn thing was not as good as his dear London Underground. And it _certainly_ wasn't_ his_ fault that he couldn't make his way around it without getting ridiculously flustered and looking like a typical British tourist.

Nope, not his fault at all.

The poor blonde had spent the better part of ten minutes fighting with the ticket machine before he realised that he could easily change the language from French to English with the push of a button. Needless to say that he was very red-faced once he'd bought his ticket and mumbled some sort of apology to the growing queue behind him as he turned to tackle the automated ticket barrier.

Luckily that had been pretty simply to master, though he did almost forget to take his ticket again.

Then there was the actual challenge.

Now, it can't be said that the English pride themselves on their sense of direction but the French Metro was just ridiculous.

Arthur wanted to get on the blue line, apparently. Or at least that's what the map as telling him. But was there a blue line at this station? No, there was not. The blue line was on the _other_ side of bloody Paris. (Why the machine let Arthur buy a ticket to there was beyond him.) So instead he had to catch three other metros criss-crossing through the underbelly of Paris just to get on the right line, never mind the right station.

It was a bloody good job that he'd gotten up early and wasn't in a rush.

"I would bet that this entire system was thought up by Francis. It wouldn't surprise me one little bi-"

"_Ah, bonjour mon cher. _Sinking beautiful thoughts about _moi_, I 'ope?"

Arthur froze.

'_The whole of Paris, the whole of sodding Paris and of all the people out there, I run into _him.'

Catching himself, Arthur turned on his heel and glared up at the far taller man. Dressed in a dark navy business suit and with his blonde hair tied back, at least Francis looked decent. Arthur certainly wouldn't put dressing crudely in a public place below the Frenchman.

"Oh please," he scoffed "not even in your own perverted dreams would I think of you."

"Artzur! You wound me so!" Francis leant against the tiled wall dramatically, one hand holding his head whilst the other was clutched the area of his suit above his heart. "Did you hear zat, _mon cher_? I think zat was ze sound of _mon coeur_ breaking!"

"You don't have a heart, you slimy French git." And with those kind words, Arthur sped off towards the nearest set of stairs.

"Ah ah ah, _mon cher_. I sink you'll find you want ze _autre_ staircase."

Turning, Arthur was faced with a sight a true Englishman should never be forced into witnessing; a victorious Frenchman.

"Oh really now? And what makes you so sure of that, Frog?"

"You are also 'eading to ze conference, _non_? Ze station you require iz zat way." Francis pointing in the opposite direction to that which Arthur was previously going in. Arthur narrowed his eyes to green slits, suspicious of this outwardly kind act.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Why shouldn't you?"

"You probably just want to get me lost! And then you'll get the security camera footage and laugh as I-"

"_Mon Dieu_! Is zat what you sink of me, Artzur? You really sink I would be zat childish?" Francis walked over the Arthur and linked arms tightly, though not without pulling the shorter man up completely straight and wrenching his arm a little. "I will accompany you on zis, you first trip on _mon metro fantastique_!" The lighter blonde grinned and wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous manner. "And per'aps we can 'ave some more 'firsts' on ze way, _oui_?"

"What the bleeding hell do you mean by that, you hairy faced fish?! And let me go!" Arthur struggled in the Frenchman's grip but it was to no avail. "I'll cry 'rape' Francis, you know I will! I don't know what it is in bloody French but I'm sure the message will get through-"

"_Zut alors_! You don't stop, do you Artzur? No wonder 'alf ze world is baying for your blood…"

"Not as much as I'm baying for yours right now, Frog." The shorter man had given up his futile fight to relinquish control of his arm and instead settled for seething quietly as he was dragged on and off metros, weaved through crowds and pushed up and down stairs.

Eventually (or rather 'thankfully' as Arthur thought) they reach they shared destination, and with quite some time to spare. Begrudgingly, Arthur supposed it may have been slightly useful having met Francis. Not that he'd ever say that out loud.

"So, what did you sink of your first trip on ze _metro de Paris_?"

Arthur glared at some documents in his hand for a while, trying to convince himself that they were Very Important, though he didn't know just how Very Important he could pretend them to be, considering they were covered with doodles by a bleach blonde, bespectacled American. Deciding it would probably be best to simple answer the damn question.

"It could have been better." He answered, shuffled the doodled papers with an air of 'I-do-know-what-I'm-doing-shut-up'. The Frenchman seemed to visibly wilt.

"Oh? _Et_ 'ow do you-" Fed up of being interrupted, Arthur cut into Francis' words.

"_However_, it certainly could have been worse. I could have run into Ivan instead of you…" He turned away from the taller man and so failed to notice the grin forming on his face. "Or Alfred. Bloody hell, that would have been a nightmare…" Finished with his briefcase, Arthur turned to Francis with a slight smile. It lacked the snide undertone for it to be counted as a smirk and Francis was relatively pleased with the progress. "'_Aww heck nah, Artie!_'" The Englishman said in a horrendous American accent,"'_The New York Subway is the way to go! Best underground system on this planet! And probably the Solar System too!_' Ugh, at least your company is vaguely intelligent."

"Ah, _mon cher_ you are too kind." Francis held open the door to the meeting room, allowing Arthur to pass through before him. The shorter blonde was about to thank him when a very foreign, very _French_ hand descended onto his backside.

"_Francis!?_"

"_Quoi, mon cher_? You do not sink I had forgotten about the other 'firsts', _non_?"


End file.
